After I Say I'm Sorry
by A G Moore
Summary: Sequel to Fly Me to the Moon. With Harvey Dent recovering in a house outside of city limits, J feels a threat in him no longer. But when Christine's child's paternity is questioned, whose side will she find herself on? Joker/OC, Harvey/OC, Bruce/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I'm back again, guys! Sorry it took so long to get this up, and it's also incredibly short! Think of this as the prologue, haha. I'm going to be writing the spin-off with Abigail sometime soon, right along side of this, so keep an eye out for that, too. I know the plotline has probably be done a thousand times, and it savors a bit of cliche, but I absolutely love it. The plot is tried and true! Plus, with J thrown in the midst, that must make for some excellent twists and turns! I hope I don't disappoint!

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"I hate living like this, Bruce."

Bruce Wayne looked the man soberly in the face. "There's nothing more I can do. You refuse to let me help you… heal. How can you stop living like this if you decline any form of aid?"

Burn victims were common in large cities. Every hospital was equipped with everything that was needed in order to restore someone to their original appearance. It would have only taken a month or two to get Harvey Dent back to his old self. He could have been back out in Gotham, the face of the city, helping defeat crime and restore peace to it's streets. Instead, he sat in a house obtained in a joint effort by Bruce Wayne and Abigail Morris, staring at the cleanly painted walls, adjusting to a life of near complete solitude.

A sneer curled on Harvey's lip. "I'm as patched up as I ever will be. It's not that that I was talking about."

Bruce watched as Harvey ran his fingers absently over the arm of his chair. The room around them was in peaceful disarray. He had spent nearly every day for the past eight months sitting in this room. Leaving the small house outside of Gotham's city limits was not an option. His face, or what was left of it, was too easily recognized, even out there.

"What were you talking about, then?" he asked.

"I haven't seen her in months - eight months. You never talk about her. You're afraid that it'll get me upset, angry. I sit here for hours thinking of nothing but her. What is she doing? How is she feeling? How is she sleeping?" His voice lowered, and a hint of sadness overwhelmed it, causing it to give a nearly unnoticeable shake, "I worry. I wish you'd talk about her." Harvey rubbed his left cheek, leaning against his hand and staring directly at Bruce. "What aren't you telling me?"

A rattling thump rang out in Bruce's chest. How could he tell Harvey what had happened? Harvey was not stable enough to receive the news. He would do someone harm, either himself or someone unsuspecting. It just wasn't safe. Not only that, but Abigail had made him promise not to speak a word to Harvey about it.

But there was an incorruptibility in his clear blue eyes, a yearning for information. Those were eyes that anyone could trust. Bruce shook his head, settling back down onto the sofa. "I have told you everything that I know. I'm a busy man, Harvey. I tell you what I hear, and I don't hear much. I'm also not a reporter. I have no idea what's going on with the people of Gotham - couldn't care much either, really."

"Are you sure?" Harvey whispered, "Are you sure that you don't know anything about her? Is she okay? Could you at least tell me that she's okay?"

Bruce looked up at Harvey and nodded. He saw a light of "She's okay. If she was anything less than that, I would have told you."

They sat there in silence for a moment, pensive silence. Bruce contemplated how Abigail would react should he tell Harvey about Christine. Harvey thought of nothing other than her face - every pore, every fine line of it. There was a quiet buzz in Bruce's pocket. He removed his cell phone and stared into its face. Abigail.

Bruce cursed silently to himself as he flipped open the phone and held it to his ear. "Bruce Wayne." Harvey sat up in his chair, ears alert. "Yeah, yeah… yeah, I'll tell him." There was another long quiet. "Are you sure? Have you thought this out?" He bit nervously on the inside of his mouth, shutting his eyes. It was clear in Abigail's voice that she was wary about the very thing that she told him to do. It wasn't her idea. Christine had asked her to do this.

After he shut his phone and slipped it back into the pocket of his slacks, he turned to Harvey. His heart raced fearfully in his chest. Even after playing the masked vigilante for going on three years, he still felt the cold chill of fear when he had to approach others as Bruce Wayne. It was his mask that kept him strong. Without it, he was Bruce, the young playboy millionaire, the orphan, the boy that was still afraid to turn into a dark alleyway alone.

"That was Abigail," he began, and he saw Harvey's hands grip the armrests of the chair. "She called to tell me that Christine is in the hospital." Harvey nearly jumped out of his seat at the word, but Bruce grabbed him by the arm, forcing him with surprising strength to sit back down. "No, it's not serious." When he saw Harvey calm noticeably, he continued. "Well, she's not in any danger. I am afraid, however, that it is rather serious."

Harvey's eyes were wide. "What is it!? Stop being so damn cryptic, Bruce! Tell me what she said!" His chest rose and fell with each breath sucked in through a mouth agape with fear. If Bruce's heart had raced with dread, Harvey's threatened to burst from his ribcage.

"Abigail didn't say much," he said softly, patting Harvey on the arm and watching as the former DA tensed again. Bruce couldn't find the correct words. He had kept this secret for the past eight months in an attempt to save Harvey from the grief that it would no doubt stir. He would not be able to handle this, not right now. He wasn't ready. But, Abigail had stated plainly that he must know. There was no stalling. He must be told. "Just that… she's had the baby."

The air was knocked from Harvey's lungs, and he slumped backwards against the chair. "What?" He couldn't comprehend what Bruce had said. He stared at him with the left side of his face skewed with confusion. "Christine's had a child?" He shut his eyes and turned his head slightly to the side, attempting to do the math in the back of his head. Slowly, memories began to leak behind his eyes.

"_I haven't seen her in months - eight months."_

"_No, I don't want any of that. I want you to be my wife."_

"_Please, Christine, kiss me, and then you can go. I don't care where you go or with whom. I just want this. I want this before you leave."_

His eyes welled with tears at each progressing thought. Despite the length of time since they had happened, he could still taste her, smell her. He could still see her with perfect clarity. Despite all that she had done to him, the undeniably true sensation of love was still in his heart.

"_I thought she'd rip my pants right off… I like that in a woman."_

Joker…

"I have to see her, Bruce. I have to see her, and I have to see the baby."

Bruce shook his head immediately, "No, no, no, that's impossible. In your condition, it's hardly the sane thing to do. We have to wait. Christine has to get comfortable. She's not ready to see you again yet. She told Abigail that."

"But the child…," Harvey groaned inwardly, lifting his eyes to Bruce's. "You don't understand. The child… It may very well be mine."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I'm terribly sorry about the long wait! I've been wanting to get back for a long time now, and I've finally gotten around to it! I hope you guys like this chapter. I hope I haven't gotten rusty!

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"_What_?"

The gasped reply was the only word Christine could manage. She sat up in the hospital bed, her arms folded across the sheet that was pulled up to her stomach. Her cheeks blanched of all color, and her eyes were open wide. Shock was written over her features; shock mixed with something else, something faintly resembling sadness.

Physical and emotional complications put her in the hospital for the month approaching the child's birth. It was nearly thirty days that she had not seen Joker. A part of her missed him desperately, yet another part of her blamed him for almost losing the baby. She took the fall late one night. He hadn't returned home after leaving earlier that day, and she'd begun to get worried. Heavy with child, she was wandering toward the door to peer out of the peephole at the driveway. Suddenly, there was a jolt of pain through her stomach that knocked her to her feet. The doctors claimed that it was because of stress. Most women claimed otherwise when pregnant. It was never their or their mate's fault. Christine, however, knew it was true.

Peering from behind suddenly tear-glazed eyes at Abigail, she opened her mouth to speak. Her friend was sitting beside the bed, rocking lazily in the chair, the baby sleeping in her arms. "Bruce called me after he talked to him," she said quietly, sure not to wake the baby. "He wants to see him."

Abigail peered down at the little boy in her arms. It was too early to tell who he looked like, but she had caught a glimpse of blue between his eyelids that fluttered while he dreamt. She had seen a similar color before, in Harvey. Smoothing her fingertips carefully over the tuft of dark hair on his head, she smiled. Despite everything that was happening, she could not help but feel a rush of happiness every time she looked at the little boy.

From her side, Christine sighed fitfully, toying with the seam of the sheet, staring down at it with staggering concentration. "You know, Matthew could be for either of them."

Abigail looked up from the baby's face, looking into her friend's surprisingly docile expression. "What did you have put on his birth certificate?" she asked after realizing that she hadn't asked.

Looking up from her lap and into Abigail's eyes, Christine gave a tremulous chuckle of self-censure. "I couldn't bear seeing the name 'Matthew Villiers' on his birth certificate," she muttered, measuring each word on her tongue. She was unsure as to whether she had actually done what she certainly had. She remembered it vividly. She wanted to forget. "His name is Matthew Dent."

A lump formed instantly in Abigail's throat. Her eyes fell from her friend to the little boy in her arms. "Then you have to let him see the baby. Legally, or… whatever the hell this is, Matthew is his. You don't have to see him if you don't want to. I could bring Matthew myself. The doctor said that he's only keeping you here because he wants to make sure you're okay."

"That," Christine began, pausing to wipe a stray tear from her eye as if it was nothing. "That may be best." She could hardly think about Harvey without being overwhelmed. The doctor told her that she should keep away from any possible stress that may wear on her center. Her heart was weak, weaker than he wanted it to be. Again, she blamed it on Joker.

Abigail nodded, holding the child noticeably closer to herself. She stood carefully and moved to the bed. "I'm gonna go call Bruce. Tell him the news. Tonight, we'll go see Harvey." Handing Matthew off to Christine, she reached over, smoothing her friend's soft brown hair away from her face. "Don't worry about it. It's the best thing we could do. It'll be good for Harvey, too."

Stepping out into the hallway, Abigail sunk backwards against the wall beside the door. Her mind was racing. She'd named the child after Harvey, making Harvey the boy's true father. What would happen if word got out that Christine had given birth to Dent's child? He had gone missing and no one had heard from him since. No matter how hard the public tried to get word of the politician, they received nothing. Just silence.

Slipping her phone out of the pocket of her jeans, she opened it and found Bruce's number. The conversation took all of two minutes. She began to pace not long after hanging up her cell. Her long strides and squared, tense shoulders kept anyone from inquiring as to her state. There was a wrinkle of distress in her forehead. This line eased as she heard someone coming down the hallway, turning around to see Bruce heading in her direction. When she got closer, she saw that he wore a dour mask. Behind it, though, there was a glimmer of something at the sight of her.

No words passed between them. He merely stopped walking, meeting her halfway to the door. They stood close together, their eyes level with each other. Instead of thanking him for coming, she sunk into him as she had on the day she'd first seen Harvey. Except she wasn't wracked with sobs. She wasn't shocked. She wasn't upset. She was tired.

The feeling of his strong arms around her was some comfort, but it hardly eased everything away, not how she wished it would. She wanted life to fade into how it had been before. She wanted to wake up and go to work. She wanted to be annoyed by her boss. She wanted things to return to normal. She hated having to ignore Adrien's frequent phone calls about his daughter. She hated lying to the man that had been like a second father to her. He did not even know he had a grandson.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked, his voice low enough to be discreet but loud enough for her to recognize the empathy in his words. Abigail took a step back, looking up into his disturbingly handsome face. She was bothered by it sometimes. He was a playboy, a modern day rake. Yet, despite this, she couldn't help but feel a certain softness about him, like there was an aspect to Bruce Wayne no other woman had ever cared to find.

Abigail gave him a weak smile, "I'm… okay. Keepin' on and all of that. Only what is expected of me. I haven't been in the hospital so much in my life." She let a slow breath fall from her lips. "The cafeteria isn't much in the way of dinner. And the coffee is always bitter. Christine's fine, though. The baby's surprisingly quiet."

While she spoke, Bruce made quiet sounds of agreement, nodding every once in a while, acknowledging that the coffee was, in fact, extremely bitter. "So, are we going through with what you mentioned on the phone?"

She nodded solemnly. "Christine agreed that it's the best possible thing for us to do. The baby's sleeping right now, so this may be the time to go. You go down and have your driver pull up to the front. I'll be there soon." Bruce turned to go, but Abigail stopped him by putting a hand on his arm. He turned around, an eyebrow raised quizzically. Before he could ask her why she'd stopped him, she leaned in and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you for doing this. I was wary about this whole thing at first, but I agree with Christine. It's the best thing for us to do."

There was a small, knowing smile on Bruce's thin lips as she turned around and disappeared into Christine's room.


End file.
